Chapter 7 - SOMEONE TRIED TO TAKE LILY FROM PRESCHOOL USING MY NAME
Three weeks passed.
Luca remained missing.
Life tried becoming ordinary.
That was dangerous.
Sophia moved from temporary residence to townhouse in Westchester chosen by her.
Security outside.
No Moretti employee inside.
Lily returned preschool.
I visited twice a week.
Two hours.
Sometimes Sophia stayed.
Sometimes Rebecca-approved child specialist or nanny was present.
Not because court ordered.
Because Sophia needed evidence I could respect limits.
I gave it.
Lily taught me tea parties.
I learned stuffed rabbit named Mr. Buttons outranked me.
I accepted.
Then on a Tuesday at 2:17 p.m., a man arrived at Lily’s preschool with a notarized letter stating:
Dominic Moretti authorizes immediate pickup of Lily Reed due family medical emergency.
The school did exactly what it was supposed to do.
Called Sophia.
Sophia called me.
I said:
“No.”
Then she called police.
The man left before officers arrived.
Security footage captured license plate.
Rental.
Rented using identification belonging to one of Luca’s former drivers.
My body went cold in a way I had not felt since Lily first offered me cookie.
This was not surveillance.
This was attempted removal.
I wanted to send every man I had into streets.
I could have found driver before police.
Maybe.
Old instincts screamed.
Enzo stood in my office.
“Say word.”
I looked at him.
That was problem.
One word.
And twenty men would move.
Some armed.
Some not.
Some too loyal to ask.
I thought of Lily’s trust.
Sophia’s fear.
My mother’s choices.
“No.”
Enzo frowned.
“Boss.”
“Police have plate.”
“We preserve.”
“We cooperate.”
“If they ask for records, give.”
Enzo stared.
“You feeling okay?”
“No.”
“But I’m serious.”
Then I called Sophia.
“I want to move Lily.”
“No.”
Immediate.
I closed eyes.
Old Dominic wanted argue.
Instead:
“What do you want?”
“More security at school.”
“Different pickup password daily.”
“Police liaison.”
“Maybe pull her for week.”
“Okay.”
“No Moretti house.”
“Okay.”
“No disappearing us.”
That hurt.
“I won’t.”
Silence.
Then her voice softened.
“I know.”
First time she said that without correction.
Progress.
Police identified attempted pickup man within twenty-four hours.
Name:
Paul DeSantis.
Former contractor for Luca’s private security.
He surrendered through attorney after warrant.
His phone contained messages.
Not from Luca directly.
From Luca’s son, Anthony Moretti.
My cousin.
Thirty-six.
Someone I had grown up with.
Baseball.
First communion.
Funerals.
Anthony had been quiet during family audit.
Now reason.
Messages:
Pick up child. Bring to Walsh property. No harm. We need Dominic to stop.
No harm.
As though kidnapping became ethical if you added phrase.
Anthony was arrested.
Not by me.
Good.
He initially claimed father ordered.
Then evidence revealed Luca had contacted him from burner phone.
Investigators traced partial tower pattern to New Jersey.
The net tightened.
Sophia did not sleep.
I knew because neither did I.
She called at 3:04 a.m.
“Can you come?”
My chest tightened.
“Yes.”
I arrived alone.
She had changed terms for that night.
No security inside still.
Lily slept upstairs.
Sophia sat kitchen in sweatshirt.
Hair tied.
No makeup.
She looked like woman I loved four years ago and someone I had never met.
“I’m scared.”
There.
Simple.
I sat opposite.
“So am I.”
She looked.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“I thought Dominic Moretti doesn’t get scared.”
“Dominic Moretti has excellent publicist.”
She almost smiled.
Then:
“I keep thinking I made mistake coming Christmas.”
“No.”
“If I hadn’t—”
“Stop.”
She stiffened.
I corrected.
“Sorry.”
She nodded.
“If you hadn’t come, they still knew where Lily was.”
“Carlo knew.”
“Luca knew.”
“Hiding was already over.”
Sophia’s eyes filled.
“I spent four years believing distance kept her safe.”
“It did for a while.”
“Maybe.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“It gave her three years where no one called her Moretti.”
“No cameras.”
“No headlines.”
“No men explaining family duty.”
“You gave her childhood.”
Sophia cried.
“I took you away from it.”
I breathed.
“Yes.”
She flinched.
“But you were under threat.”
“I won’t pretend choice was simple.”
“I am angry I lost those years.”
“Both.”
She stared.
“Both.”
“Yes.”
Then:
“Do you hate your mother?”
I thought.
“No.”
“Do you forgive her?”
“No.”
“You can have both too.”
Sophia almost smiled.
Good.
Then upstairs, Lily cried.
Nightmare.
Sophia started up.
Lily called:
“Dominic Daddy!”
We both froze.
Sophia looked at me.
“Go.”
I went.
Lily sat in bed crying.
“Bad man.”
“What bad man?”
“He took me from school.”
No one had taken her, but children convert fear.
I sat on floor.
“Bad man didn’t get you.”
“He will.”
My chest broke.
“No.”
Careful.
Could not promise absolute.
“I’m going to do everything I can so he doesn’t.”
She reached.
“Stay.”
I looked at Sophia in doorway.
She nodded.
I sat beside bed.
Lily held two fingers.
Within minutes, she slept.
I did not move for an hour.
Sophia sat in chair across room.
At some point she whispered:
“You would have been good with her.”
The sentence hurt.
“I can still be.”
Sophia looked.
“Yes.”
First time.
Yes.
The next morning, investigators arrested Luca Moretti at a marina in Atlantic City.
No shootout.
No gunfire.
He was found in rented boat preparing to leave.
He had cash.
Fake passport.
Two phones.
And draft trust amendment prepared by private lawyer that would have stripped Lily’s rights if I signed under “temporary family stabilization.”
He was brought back in handcuffs.
I did not go.
That surprised everyone.
Even me.
Rebecca asked:
“Do you want to see arraignment?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if I see him, I’ll make this about anger.”
“It is about evidence.”
Good.
She groaned.
I smiled.
Then I went to preschool.
Lily had a holiday craft display.
She showed me paper snowman.
One eye upside down.
Perfect.
That afternoon while my uncle stood before judge—
May you like
I sat on tiny chair while my daughter explained glue to me.
I had never made a more important choice.
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